Sugar is a Drug
by Namesake
Summary: It's the usual case: A mysterious homicide shows up on Leon Orcot's desk. Heading off to Chinatown, Leon has a dangerous encounter at the Petshop. With a mystery of his own on his hands, D is set on finding out why Leon almost died because of tea.
1. Sugar

**A/N: **Here's the revamped version of this story. I beta'd this a few times and changed a few little things. I think it's an easier read now. Because I like the flow and the implied plot that's in this first chapter, I didn't rewrite it, but edited it a bit. If the next few chapters differ in writing style, that is why. I wrote this...oh, almost a year ago or more now...I think.

* * *

_"...Refined sugar, by some, is called a drug, because in the refining process everything of food value has been removed except the carbohydrates-pure calories, without vitamins, minerals, proteins, fats, enzymes or any of the other elements that make up food." _

**Sugar is a Drug**

**Chapter I**

* * *

It was just supposed to be a normal day, but, then again, when all the cases he investigated led him to Chinatown, his days were anything but normal. The cop sighed in anger as he read through the file that had been waiting for him on his desk. Another homicide. The murder weapon wasn't found, but it seemed as if the victim had been slashed several times by a knife.

"You know," Jill said, "why don't you stop fighting yourself and go ask him." Everyone on the floor know who 'he' was. She paused briefly before adding, "you're tense."

_Now why did she have to add that as an afterthought?_ Leon thought darkly to himself as he forced himself to relax...which wasn't very relaxed. _And why the fuck did she have to say it out loud?_ Angry, Leon grabbed some chocolates out of his desk and stalked angrily out of the office. The other workers just ignored his mood; they were used to it.

And a question comes to mind as Leon stalks down the streets of LA to Chinatown. Why does a male police officer have a drawer full of expensive and exotic chocolates? The answer is simple: Jill emptied out his drawer of files (which now reside in a small filer on the corner of Leon's desk) and filled it with chocolate because she, and the rest of the workers on their floor, got tired of hearing Leon piss and moan, to borrow some of his own words.

His dark mood distracted him and before Leon knew it he found himself at the doors to Count D's petshop. Wary, Leon carefully entered the shop, a little bell announcing his presence. Sure enough, a growl and a blur launched itself at his person. Thinking quickly, something that suddenly struck Leon as it doesn't happen often, Leon sidestepped and the Totetsu, which Leon knows as "the goat thing" almost collided with a wall.

T-chan was about to make a second pass when a smooth voice said into the dim shop, "T-chan, the detective wins this one. Why don't you go tell Chris is brother is here?" The Totetsu just growled, D sending it an amused glance, as it slunk into the back of the shop with Leon's sastified glare, comeplete with matching smirk, following him.

Leon plopped himself down on one of the Count's many sitting couches while the Count busied himself with making tea. He thought he heard D say something about being low on cakes. Which reminded him...

"Hey D." The Count looked up. Leon fished through the many pockets on the inside of his jean jacket, trying to remember where he stashed the chocolates. Finding them just behind his arm, Leon fished out a decent sized package of Lindt assorted chocolate balls. Leon presented them to the Count with a "Here, these are for you."

Suddenly tired, the homicide detective leaned his head back, so he didn't catch the Count's delighted expression.

"Oh Detective!" Count D exclaimed as he clapped his hands and took the chocolate like a kid at Christmas. "This is very expensive Swiss chocolate! I'm surprised you knew about them! Most people don't know about these!" D glided into the kitchen and returned a moment later with the truffle spheres in a dish. "This will compliment the tea I made wonderfully! The scents even blend together nicely..."

The Count looked over at Leon as he made no comment about his actions and rambling like he usually did. The count saw that his detective was fast asleep. _Odd,_ the Count thought. The Count wanted to look into Leon's dreams, just out of curiosity to see if there was anything interesting he could use at his shop, but just then Chris and Pon-chan came bouncing into the room. The noise Chris and the tanuki made effectively waking the slumbering detective.

"Chris!" Leon exclaimed happily as the boy clambered up onto the couch.

_Brother!_ Chris exclaimed happily. _I was in the back swimming with Phillip when T-chan came to tell me that you were here!_

Leon noticed, after Chris had mentioned swimming, that his hair was wet. "Did you have fun?" Leon smiled as Chris nodded emphatically, effectively showering surprisingly salty water on him. "Good."

Chris blinked. He took a deep breath through his nose, something he often caught T-chan doing. His brain registered a delight that all children love to eat.

_Chocolate!_ Chris exclaimed happily as he grabbed a couple of the truffle balls and fled the room. D smiled and Pon-chan scolded him as she chased after him.

"Don't you eat those all at once!" Leon exclaimed, yawning. "And don't feed any to that raccoon either!" Leon shook his head as he yawned again. "I hope you make sure he brushes his teeth well," Leon said seriously turning his attention on D. "What with you and your fucken sugar addiction."

"Yes, well," D said as his gaze studied the golden haired detective, "at least my drug isn't harmful."

Leon rubbed his eyes. Why was he so fucken tired?? He had gotten 8 hours of sleep the night before, and that was more than he usually got. "D, I need your help with a case." Leon jumped in. He was tired and he didn't want to beat around the bush. "There was a homicide yesterday." Instead of explaining, Leon produced the pictuers and tossed them at D. The man was intelligent enough to figure out the little details anyway. Picking up a white chocolate, Leon popped the ball into his mouth and then proceeded to sip his tea.

Meanwhile, D looked through the pictures. He was particularly caught on the picture of the victim's torso. Eight scratches, four one way, four the other, made an 'X' on his chest. What appeared to be a bite mark had rendered some flesh from the shoulder. D was studying the teath signature on to see if he could identify the animal, for even he couldn't deny that an animal had **not** done this, when the spluttering and coughing of his guest made him switch his attention. His eyes grew wide as he took in the situation.

Leon had dropped his cup of tea that had, luckily, landed on the tray (he would have hated getting the stain out of the rug if it had fallen on the floor). The detective clutched his throat as he coughed and spluttered. Leon's breathing was sporadic, harsh and heavy; as if he was having trouble breathing. His face was screwed up in pain and concentration.

"Oh my," came unbidden from D's mouth as he leapt into action. Slinging the asphyxiating detective over his shoulders, D hurredly walked to his herb room where he made his teas. Setting Leon in a corner, D hurredly scanned the shelves, cutting boards, knives and pestals. When he found the pestal he usually made tea with, D stuck his finger in it before putting the digit in his mouth.

His eyes narrowed as he tasted an herb that shouldn't have had this effect on the detective; it only should have calmed him down. Looking at the shelves, the Count quickly grabbed the opposite herb, ground it in a clean mortar, and proceeded to shove it down the detective's mouth. Carrying the now unconcious detective back to the main room, the count placed him on a couch before making his way to the phone and pulling out a well loved piece of paper.

* * *

Jill was arranging and alphabetizing files and filing them when the phone on her desk rang. Carefully setting down the stack of files, Jill rushed over and answered the phone. A smooth, cultured voice answered back. "Hello, this is Count D."

"Hello Count D," Jill happily replied. "Can I help with something?"

"No, but thank you," came D's voice. "I'm calling because Leon won't be able to come back to work today. I'm afraid he has had an allergic reaction to something in the shop."

"Oh dear," Jill said, a bit worried. "He will be okay, though, right, Count?"

A musical laugh came through the receiver. "Of course he will." Jill could hear the smile in his voice. "He's just sleeping off the antihistamine right now."

Jill assured the Count that she'd smooth everything over before she, reluctantly, made her way to the boss to update him on Leon's health. The employees on the floor below and above him heard his opinion on the matter.

* * *

Count D replaced the antique phone on its receiver and puzzled over the Detective's violent reaction. The minute amount of henbane that had been in the tea was intended to relax the drinker. The plant had sleeping and numbing effects. If the drought was too pure or too concentrated, the effects could be fatal. Antidotes were mustard seed or garlic with a sweet white wine. D had quickly mixed all these together before elegantly shoving them down the Detective's throat.

He didn't think that humans were violently allergic to henbane, Chris had had some in tea; even some high end customers, nervous about getting a pet, often drank the same drought. D knew that some animals were allergic to the plant. His mind immediately propagated a list. Pondering over his own detective work as Leon was blissfully unaware of the world, Count D glided into the depths of his shop with a vile of red liquid in his hands.

* * *

_reposted 26July2007_


	2. Dry Ingredients

**A/N:** As said in the last chapter, I do believe that the style in this chapter is slightly different than in the last one. When I was rereading my fic, I was horrified at how bad the second chapter was. Poor structure, no real plot (I must have deluded myself) and it was just everywhere. I'm hoping to set up more of my plot this way. I had a good think today about this. I'm hoping to get this done this weekend if nothing immense happens. _  
_

I think this chapter makes Leon a bit more mysterious, and the plot, hopefully, isn't so transparent (it probably is still TT).

Oh, the joys of writing late at night!

P.S.: if there's a word that's supposed to have 'd/D' in it and it seems to be missing, that's because my 'd' key doesn't stick to the keyboard. There's a nice story that involves a vindictive little brother and his friend. I think I got them well enough, but if you find one, please let me know so I can fix it.

* * *

_" '…white refined sugar-is not a food. It is a pure chemical extracted from plant sources, purer in fact than cocaine, which it resembles in many ways.  
Its true name is sucrose and its chemical formula is C12H22O11. It has 12 carbon atoms, 22 hydrogen atoms, 11 oxygen atoms, and absolutely nothing else to offer.' ...The chemical formula for cocaine is C17H21NO4."_

**Sugar is a Drug**

**Chapter II**

* * *

_  
_

_He was an old soul, both in the literal and figurative sense. He remembered. He remembered back to when the arid land they hunted had been covered in snow, back when they were quite large and the game larger, back when their now russet coats were greys and blacks and dull browns and white. He remembered how the land changed; the ice turned to water and they found themselves on rocky outcroppings and in a mountainous region. This was quite different than the endless snowy plains and sparse conifer groves they were used to. _

_He remembered when the snow stopped. The only hint that it had ever been were the minimal to hard frosts during the nights. Instead of snow, water came. Rain; it came slowly at first, then in an icy deluge. Sodden and dispirited they had taken shelter in the rocks that were to become their permanent home. _

_He remembered the heat; the scorching heat that took the moisture out of all but the most tenacious plants and shrubs. Their coats, much too thick for the weather, began to thin. They lost their soft undercoat first; it fell out in great hanks and tufts. It was in these early years that the wolves came to war with the great cats. Lions, with their huge incisors hunted them when they couldn't find enough food. Their solution: elevation. Up the mountains they went, gradually losing their thick, lush coats and their monotone colouring. Instead, much like the rocks in the area, their fur turned a deep russet colour; a reddish brown. Their once long, bushy tails shortened a bit and the tips, much like how the red fox's tail tip is white, were black, and white markings dappled the neck, belly and tail. _

_He remembered how there use to be many of them. He remembered the ways of the shamans and the primitive man. He remembered how they asked permission, how they sought their presence or guidance when they were in great need, how they strove to emulate certain aspects of their society in their own society. He remembered when some who wandered from the pack ended up fascinated by fire, as all their kind were, and how man seemed to control it. It was so different in its bed of rocks than the raging infernos that occasionally ravaged the land and belched oily black smoke into the skies, stinging their noses with the scents it carried. He remembered how those that left changed, how they became loyal to the man and learned to communicate with them. He remembered the beginnings of dogs and their uses to man. He remembered when man understood that he couldn't take too many of their number, just as they couldn't take much of the wild animals they were slowly domesticating; yet both populations needed them to survive, and both understood the consequences of over hunting this small, convenient population._

_He remembered when Change came. He remembered when all that was forsaken. He remembered when a different man came and poisoned the ways of the others. He remembered watching, in his old age, as different dogs came, and their cruel masters and their flocks; how they came into their land and killed them, slaughtering them for hunting in their own territory. He remembered how they learned to hide their presence, more so then they ever had to before in the past. He remembered how the shamans of the old way lamented at the loss, how they cried how they had been forsaken. He remembered being forsaken first. He remembered the terrible thirsting disease; all he wanted was water, yet no matter how longingly he stared at a stream or spring, he couldn't drink. Others shared the malady, and were very short tempered. Driven from their packs, he remembered dying alone, thirsty and hungry. _

_He remembered life but most of all, he remembered death. He remembered the need to hide. This ability had been his lifeline; his memory had been his saving grace when he led his pack. _

_Above all, he remembered the need to hide. _

_When death embraced him once more, as it had many times since his soul was born, he remembered. He remembered…_

Leon groaned as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry and his head was pounding. All he wanted to do was drink some water and sleep. He didn't remember feeling this horrible in a while. His tongue felt like it was cotton and his mouth similarly felt like leather. His eyes were gritty as if sand had been dumped in them. Leon couldn't even muster the energy to raise his arms and rub them! Muttering angrily to himself, and swearing blackly, Leon tried again and…success!

Opening bleary eyes on the world, Leon was surprised to still find himself in the petshop. "D?" Leon asked, slightly swaying as he hauled himself into a sitting position.

* * *

Count D was most confused. He had sampled the blood, but found it similar to Chris' blood, as it should be: it was human blood. But there was something about Leon's blood that just didn't sit right with D. Something was…off. Leon wasn't allergic to plants; he himself had informed D of it. 

"Count," a female tanuki began, "Leon's awake."

D smiled. "Thank you, Pon-chan." He left his herb room and glided down the short hallway to the sitting room where his guests and customers entered. Indeed, his detective was sitting up on the small sofa.

"Detective," D said softly, so as not to startle the man into a temper. It was the last thing either of them needed. Slowly, the head of golden hair turned and D's mismatched eyes met hazy blue ones.

"Mornin' D," Leon slurred. D frowned. He was still being affected by the plant? He looked closer at the detective. Even though his eyes were open, they were glassy and the pupils were too dilated; unfocused. His tanned skin was pale, but his face had a light blush. Did he have a fever? It was possible. D berated himself for, rudely, leaving him on the couch without a blanket.

"It's late," D said instead, face smooth; his gaze showing nothing, his thoughts hidden behind his Mona Lisa smile. "Would you like to sleep on my couch and catch a cold or can I offer you a bed?"

D waited patiently as Leon arduously considered the decision. Just by looking in his eyes, in his sickly, unguarded state, D could see his thoughts were like cottonwood in the wind. Eventually, they seemed to gain an iota of focus, and the attention, though it was slightly difficult to tell, went from inward to the material world.

"I think I want a bed," Leon finally told him.

"Very well," D said, standing up from his crouched position. As Leon had been thinking, D had been drawn towards those confused blue eyes. It was fascinating to actually be able to see Leon think in his eyes as they oh so subtly changed shades. "Follow me."

Wobbling, Leon shakily stood and stumbled after D, cursing when he stubbed his toe on a table…then the wall. When D opened the door to the room he would be using, Leon didn't even look around; as was his nature to wont to do. Like a horse with blinders, he walked straight to the bed and face planted on the coverlet; asleep again as soon as his head hit the delectably soft pillow. D, frustrated that he wasn't _under_ the covers, as this is what the whole point of what the bed was for, just threw the thin coverlet that was at the foot of the bed over the slumbering detective.

"I'll see you in the morning," D said. Leon never heard the softly spoken statement. He was lost in dreams; dreams where he hunted. His prey was never the same. He brought in criminals and he brought in food. Most of all, in his dreams, he remembered…

* * *

D pondered the enigma that was Leon Orcot. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it was one of the things that kept him curious and tolerant of the detective and his poor manners. And although Leon didn't know it, it was the reason that he kept coming back to his shop; never mind the whole trafficking drugs he seemed convinced he was a part of. His kind needed no such substances when sugar was equally as addictive and less destructive. 

Sugar was his drug, yes, but he was slowly fixating his curiosity on Detective Orcot. The blond was hiding something, he was positive about it now, the more he thought about it, and Count D was going to find out what it was.

* * *

_reposted 26July2007  
_


	3. Wet Ingredients

**A/N: **here's the third chapter. I'm immensely more pleased with this chap 3 than the last one. I'm sorry, but the next chapter is going to take some time to come out. I have a bunch of homework I need to do for classes these next few days. I write on the weekend mainly and late at night when my insomnia and I have tea and play cards.

As always, if there's a word that's missing a 'D' that should have one, my 'D' key fell off so if I don't hit the sensor thing directly, there's no consonant.

* * *

_"...Studies show that "sugar" is just as habit-forming as any narcotic; and its use, misuse, and abuse is our nation's number one disaster.  
...If you have any doubts as to the detriments of sugar (sucrose), try leaving it out of your diet for several weeks and see if it makes a difference! You may also notice you have acquired an addiction and experience some withdrawal symptoms. "_

**Sugar is a Drug**

**Chapter III**

* * *

**  
**

Leon opened his eyes. The room was decorated in reds and golds; rich warm hues darted between them and accented the complex tapestries and drapes. The plush carpet muffled the sound of his feet touching as he swung his legs over the side of his ridiculously comfortable bed of which was equally extravagant. There were figurines and sculptures that looked expensive on various table and desktops all over the room.

Leon had no idea where he was.

Stumbling out of bed, Leon made his way across the plush carpet to the door. Rubbing sleepy eyes, the Detective reached out and opened the door…

* * *

Count D looked up. The sun had yet to crest the horizon, yet something was moving around in the shop. His nocturnal animals should be bedding down, and his diurnal animals had yet to wake up. Remembering the Detective, D wondered what he would be doing up at such an early hour; especially with the reaction that he had had to the tea. Sipping his morning brew, the Count waited for the shop to lead Leon Orcot to the front room. As he spread a particularly sweet jam on his toast, Leon entered the front room. 

"D?" He asked a bit uncertain.

"Good morning, Detective," the Count replied. "I had no idea that you were such an early riser."

Leon plopped down in a sprawling heap on the chair at the head of the coffee table that was spread with all manner of toasts, breads, jams, jellies and marmalades; the ensemble was accompanied by two carafes of tea. Leon didn't know what to make of all of it. He thought that D only ate sweets in the afternoon. He was, apparently, very wrong. He glared at the Chinese man as he daintily ate a piece of toast with what looked like jam. In the dim interior lighting of the shop, it looked like congealed blood.

"You're addicted," Leon said as he picked up a piece of toast and slathered it with something. He made a face. He didn't know what to make of peach marmalade on rye toast. Nonetheless, the stubborn detective swallowed and chomped down on his breakfast.

D smiled. "At least my drug isn't harmful."

Leon paused in the vicious activity that was eating his breakfast and looked at D. The Count smiled secretively over the rim of his tea cup before sipping it and taking another bite of his not-really-blood-covered toast. The detective frowned. Just what did D know that put that look on his face??!!! It was most unnerving, especially this early in the morning; when someone looks at you as if they have known you all your life, knows ever little detail that you barely remember. Leon just scowled. It was too early for this shit! Grabbing another piece of toast, he slathered something else on it, and chomped down on it.

Hm…not bad. Raspberry on pumpernickel.

"Can I offer you some tea, Detective?" the Count's smooth, cultured voice broke into his reverie. Leon's thoughts never were too cohesive early in the morning. He definitely wasn't a morning person.

"It's not that shit that I had yesterday, was it?" Leon asked as he looked at the tea carafe distrustfully. He didn't eve know if he should take D up on the offer, rusty manners or not.

"No," D said, that smile back on his face. "it's normal, black tea; full of natural antioxidants and a wonderful, exorbitant amount of caffeine."

Leon just looked at him. After a moment or two where his brain translated what D said, he finally held out the tea cup that was in front of him. "Sure, I guess."

D's smile this time was his normal, cracked out smile; not the 'I know something you don't know' secretive smile. Then again, his cracked out smile might just be because of the abnormal amount of sugar he ate daily.

"Would you like it sweetened at all?" D asked. The question broke Leon from his thoughts and he saw D poised with a jar of what looked like honey next to his cup.

"No!" Leon almost shouted. He yanked his arm back and almost spilled his hot tea all over his arm. "I'm already eating enough sugar to mummify me; I don't need to drink it as well."

D's laugh was music.

"My dear detective!" He said, wiping tears from his mismatched eyes. "You're quite funny!"

Leon grumbled as he drank his tea. He didn't realize that salt mummified things, not sugar. D understood the misspoken sentence, yet, for humors sake, decided not to correct the Detective. It made the smile he gave him all the more secretive and, for Leon, irritating and grating.

"I looked at these after your reaction," D's voice cut through the lightening morning gloom. The deep, dulcet tones were anything but what expected. D seemed sad.

"…And?" Leon wanted to know what the Count thought.

"It is obviously done by an animal; I can't refute that," the pale man said. "By the size of the teeth marks in the man's neck, and the way the injuries are inflicted, I would assume this animal to be a large cat; a lion perhaps." D handed the file back to Leon who took it and tucked it somewhere in his coat.

It was then that the sun rose, morning sunshine piercing through the gloom of the petshop. Leon heard D sigh. There was something to it, and the sunshine likewise made something in him settle. He found that he enjoyed his next piece of toast much more than his previous two. Finishing his tea, Leon grabbed another piece of toast before leaving the petshop.

* * *

D's smile turned into a frown almost immediately as the bell rang, signaling Leon's departure. He was most frustrated. He set up the elaborate spread, not that he wouldn't have if Leon hadn't been eating breakfast with him, to see if he could deduce what Leon was through what he ate. It was obvious to D that he hadn't liked his first piece of toast; the Count didn't really like peach marmalade on rye toast either. But pumpernickel and raspberry? Honey oat and blackberry? Those definitely weren't typical of the detective he knew. 

Leon had once staggered into the petshop at an ungodly hour when he had been eating breakfast. That time, he had slathered peanut butter on an English muffin (several English muffins) before finishing with some vanilla milk (the only milk D drank outside of occasionally putting it in his tea) and a piece of dry toast. After that, he had promptly fallen asleep on the chair he was sprawled in, and nothing that D did short of the supernatural would wake him. He gave up in a huff and just cast a glamour that made Leon look like a sleeping cat. That had been trouble because a little girl had wanted him so bad. He remembered that his knowing smile had so angered the detective when he had woken up that he had stormed out without sharing afternoon tea with him.

Back on his original train of thought, D didn't know what to make of it all. It frustrated him to no end and the Chinese deity was almost to the point where he was sure he had to use his magic when an idea suddenly struck him. It was so powerful in its clarity that the Count paused, mid bite. Setting his toast down on the tray, the dark haired man mulled it over as he sipped his tea.

Yes, it could work. It _might_ work. Might was better than not at all and it was better than nothing to go by. Deciding that this course of action would be best, D finished his tea, cleaned up breakfast, and readied the shop to be open. Today was going to be eventful.

* * *

Leon and various others branches of the LAPD and animal control had a house surrounded. They had tracked down complaints and mysterious disappearances to this house. It looked terrible; not the house, but the yard. The front yard was getting long and in need of a cut. The back yard, what they could see of it, was horribly overgrown. The grass was easily up to any of their waists and the trees, shrubs and gardens were all overgrown. 

Leon instantly hated the place and didn't know why. There was something…threatening about it, and something deep in his soul didn't want anything to do with it. His instincts were hardly ever wrong; it's what made him a good cop and kept him alive.

"All right boys," the Chief was saying. "Let's do this."

The owner of the house had declined all attempts at a peaceful surrender. With a person from animal control in each group with a tranquilizer gun, the teams entered the house and grounds.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"This room's clear too," another voice called.

"Jungle room's clear."

"Jungle room?" a voice asked.

"It's full of plants," the cop explained. "You can barely see the walls."

One team found a number of animals in the basement, all of them terrified and skittish. It appeared as if they were being bred for something. Once the house was dubbed clear, they moved on to the backyard. It was, indeed, overgrown and very jungle like. It looked like Mr. Alexander O. Hamilton wasn't a horticulturist or cared about what his yard looked like.

The groups that had left the house and were observing the backyard paused; some on the back deck while others several feet into the long grass. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right at all. Even though humans hadn't been in a situation like the ones from the LAPD were in in thousands of years, instinct still flared strong, warning the cops of the impending danger.

It was Leon who heard it first. His head turned sharply at a slight rustle of grass. "There's something fucking out there, guys," the blonde officer quietly said.

Another rustle.

A gun cocked.

All at once, mayhem ensued. With a roar, a pride of lionesses launched themselves at the group of police officers.

"Aw fucking hell," Leon cursed as he jumped off the deck and ran for cover in the trees. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a few tawny bodies break off from the main group and chase him. His instinct was screaming at him. Something in him demanded to be let loose, to stop hiding, otherwise death was sure to follow.

Something deep within Leon growled and rose to the surface.

* * *

"Oh my," D exclaimed as one of the teacups he had cracked. The deity frowned. Something wasn't right. Setting the tea cup in its usual place at the head of the coffee table where Leon usually sat, D poured his own cup of tea and waited for his detective to show up and share tea with him.

* * *

_reposted 31July2007_


	4. 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes

**A/N:** here's the next chapter!! shwoot! Some stress relief for midterms. Midterm week more stress less sleep more random shit getting done (i.e. fanfiction and drawings).

* * *

_"It is no wonder when we consider all the products we consume daily which are loaded with sugar! The average healthy digestive system can digest and eliminate from two to four teaspoons of sugar daily, usually without noticeable problems, (that is if damage is not already present)._

_One 12 oz. Cola contains 11 teaspoons of sugar, and that's aside from the caffeine. It's the sugar that gives you quick energy, but only for a brief time due to the rise of the blood sugar level. But the body quickly releases a rush of insulin, which rapidly lowers the blood sugar and causes a significant drop in energy and endurance."_

**Sugar is a Dru_g_**

**Chapter IV_  
_**

* * *

Fuck. 

It was a word that ran through everybody's mind in the time it took for a neuron to fire. Soon after that, every expletive and black word every person knew flew through their minds as they tried to slow the cats. When Leon had brought back Count D's deduction, they were expecting one, maybe two animals; three at most…

…But a pride of a dozen large African lions?

"This isn't in my fucking job description!" someone yelled. The animal control personnel in each group fired off their tranquilizers and brought down a few of the animals, and a few broke off from the main group. There was little else the officers could do other than open fire. They were responsible for keeping the animal control personnel, as well as LA, safe.

* * *

Leon ran for all he was worth, acutely aware of the three lions closing in on him. The mantra of swear words colouring hid mind and the air around him. Air gasping in and out, Leon swore that when this was over, he wouldn't smoke again. 

Instinct suddenly flared and Leon darted hard right as a lion suddenly appeared where he had been. The blonde officer launched himself into a tree on the perimeter, a surprisingly six feet off the ground. Ah, the effects of adrenaline in dire/life threatening situations!

Leon watched the animals watch him as they slowly circled the tree. Gold eyes met blue eyes and it seemed the anger flared in the lions. They roared; something terrible and awful. The treed detective scowled in hate; his instincts loathing the animals below him, and was suddenly alert, aware of the minute change in the air. He perked up, attention split between the hunters below him and the grassland that was Mr. Hamilton's yard. Leon stilled.

Something was coming.

It was big.

"Fuck!" Leon cursed. "Guys! Fall back!" Leon shouted into his com. "Fall the fuck back now! Males are coming!"

"Wha-?" but the word was cut off by a strangled scream and a deeper, much more aggressive roar. The officers on the deck fell back into the house and Leon could vaguely hear them calling for backup. Something was prowling his insides…Leon didn't know how to put it. It was as if his soul was restless and wanted to fight.

"LEON!!! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU??!!!"

"Fuck boss! Can you yell louder?" Leon said angrily. He didn't let panic in his voice, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew the animals could smell fear.

"Leon!" Christ his boss growled like the animals under his feet.

"I'm fucking treed, ok? Treed," Leon exclaimed into his headset. "I'm staring at fucking lions, okay?"

To prove Leon's point, a lioness chose that time to roar.

"Leon, we've called in a chopper with a tranq sniper," the boss said. "He's going to try and take out the lions. Hang on until then."

"Not much else I can do," Leon muttered.

It was sometime during this exchange that Leon let his attention slip. The lions, sensing this, had crept closer, readying to spring. As soon as Leon was done with his boss and returned his attention to the lions, he recognized his fatal mistake. Sensing their chance, the lions attacked.

"Fuckign Christ!" Leon shouted as a lioness pounced him out of the tree. His head hit the ground hard and the claws dug into his shoulders were razor sharp. The something that was in him, locked behind restraints even _he_ didn't understand, broke through. With an equally ferocious roar, a russet coated animal engaged the lions.

* * *

Count D found himself closing up his shop in a rush. 

"T-chan, make sure Chris brushes his teeth before bed," Count D called as he headed towards the door.

"Where ya going, Count?" the toutetsu inquired lazily.

"I'm going to see what's wrong with our dear detective."

The red headed animal turned to watch D walk out of the petshop, the bell chiming a bit too happily.

Count D was berating himself as he hailed a cab. He should have known something was wrong. Detective Orcot, strangely, had been calling lately to let him know when he would be late to afternoon tea, otherwise he was always punctual. Count D should have left when the tea cup cracked, _not_ when the cup shattered. Count D was seething as the driver took him as fast as possible to the police station, waving off the fee.

"It's not necessary," the driver told him in mandarin. "It was an honor taking you to your destination. Thank you."

D bowed to the man before heading into Leon's work.

* * *

"Count D!" Jill exclaimed with a giggle. "What a pleasant surprise!" 

"It's a pleasure being here," Count D replied. "I was wondering if I might be able to speak with Leon, though."

Jill's smile faded a bit. D's heart sped up with worry.

"I'm afraid he's not here at the moment," Jill finally said. "He went to bust. Some guy who smuggled all manner of illegal paraphernalia from drugs and weapons to animals. Last I heard he had let loose a pride of lions against the cops."

If it were possible, D's complexion paled. Something was _very _wrong with Leon, D was positive about it now.

"Count?" Jill asked.

What had happened to Leon?

"Count D?" Jill repeated. "Are you okay?"

D blinked, coming out of his thoughts. "Well, you see, the tea cup that Leon uses broke, and I thought something might have happened to him," the Chinese deity explained. D watched as Jill frowned. It seemed he didn't have to explain anymore. Jill had been told the stories then; if not by her mother than her grandmother. Superstition shouldn't be scoffed at.

"We can't go out," Jill informed him, "but I can call the boss. Maybe he can give me an update."

D smiled. "Anything will be appreciated, Miss Jill."

Jill only smiled as she picked up the receiver and began dialing.

* * *

He fought, like he had always fought. The cats were initially surprised, and he had managed to take out two before they caught on. One of the cats were rasping and breathing their last as she bled out from her throat. The other was crying and pawing at her ruined eyes. 

_Why do you attack us?_ One of the lionesses asked.

_You hunt me_, was all he replied.

He lept into the air as a lion appeared in the spot where he was, snarling and angry.

_Why do you hunt me?_

_We were told to_, was the head lionesses reply. _Bad things happen when we don't obey._

He laughed; a harsh, grating, barking sound.

'_Bad things happen'?_ he mocked. _I thought cats had more pride than that; especially your kind._

The lioness he was talking with snarled, her fangs and incisors gleaming yellow in the sunshine. _What is a cocky human pet wannabe dirt dog like you doing walking about wearing human flesh?_ The lion snarled back.

He didn't take the insult well. Snarling, his bone white teeth scored the lioness muzzle.

_Careful now, _he chided. _Wouldn't want anything to happen to your delicate face._

She snarled and lept; he met her halfway.

* * *

Everything was hazy. Colours came and went; technicolour to monotone, focused to not. Sound; it was there then it was gone, it was static then it was clear. Fragments of sound drifted into his ears and only pieces of those were actually comprehended.

"..injured…"

"…they're dead…"

Was he dead? He couldn't be, because somewhere he knew this haziness was hiding something much worse.

"…am…fucking shit…"

His mouth twitched. He knew _those_ words. His half opened eyes watched the colours shift and move. He was reminded of a TV show he'd seen once when he was younger of fish swimming in schools; darting this way and that, shining when light hit them…

"…blood…"

He was bleeding? He had to be. Hurt that is. His mind couldn't be this hazy without something wrong with him. A face appeared before him in a sudden bout of clarity. He couldn't get much before his vision swam, but the distinct impression of dark hair stayed with him.

"D?" Leon croaked.

"…talk, Orcot," the blurred face was saying.

"Huh?" Leon rasped. His talking, or attempt to, earned him deep, painful coughs. He tried to curl in on himself, to assuage the pain, but when his body went to obey what his mind wanted, an icy inferno of pain washed over him. The pain was sudden and all encompassing. He swore he could feel each individual hair all over his body. He saw faces moving, mouths moving, hands grabbed his legs and kept him straight. There were hands on his arms, restraining him.

"Don't move, Orcot!"

His breathing was fast and rapid. He _**hurt**_!! The coloured and fuzzy world didn't matter! He couldn't breathe!

* * *

"Oxygen mask! NOW!" the on scene paramedic was yelling. Various IV's and drugs were injected and attached to the blond haired man. The force had no idea how he had managed to survive. When the helicopter did manage to down what lions, male and female alike, they could find, the police rushed in and found Alexander O. Hamilton in the back of his property with a litter of lion cubs. The helicopter had found Leon Orcot surrounded by dead and tranq'ed wounded lions. The man looked dead with the wounds he had sustained, and the paramedics were surprised to see that he breathed. They had rushed all their equipment to the fallen man and proceeded to work on him. 

Now, the dumb officer decided to talk.

"Don't talk, Orcot," the paramedic told the prone man as he attempted speech.

The obstinate man proceeded to speak and promptly and his body realized the duress and injuries it had sustained, sending pain to the brain in large amounts. They had restrained him and then placed an oxygen mask on his face due to him hyperventilating. He didn't want the already bruised and punctured lung to collapse.

Transferring him to a gurney, the paramedics carried the man through the house and to an awaiting medivac; the doctors at the hospital had their work cut out for them. The paramedic returned to back to the backyard to see if there were any other injured survivors.

* * *

Count D found himself walking down the stark halls of a hospital, Jill trailing behind him. D had opted not to call the petshop and worry Chris needlessly. As it was, the animals would be having a hard time placating the youth and acting normal when he was so agitated. D hated hospitals. The scent of chemicals burned his nose and the underlying smell of death tainted everything. 

When Jill had called the boss, she had nearly dropped the phone in surprise; Leon being mauled by lions, in LA no less? That was a feat worthy of an award of some kind.

Rounding the corner, the two visitors were led by a nurse to Leon's room.

"He just got out of surgery a little while ago," she was prattling. "He should be waking up any time now."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jill said as the squat nurse ushered them into a room.

"Just hit the call button if you be needin' anything," the nurse said as she excused herself.

Jill nodded as she went and sat by the bed. D, however, was transfixed at the door. The form he could see was definitely _not_ the Leon he knew, and it explained everything. He would bet today's sweets that there was even a tail under the sheets. Despite his injuries being fixed, D could still smell the sweet scent of Leon's blood in the air; smelling like the euphoric tonic that all his pets' blood smelled and tasted like. It's what drove him to consume mass amounts of sugar daily.

It was also obvious that Jill couldn't see these changes. D also deduced that this was why his teacup had broken.

The Count made his way over to the bed. "Leon, what have you done to yourself?" Count D's power, in his emotional state, tainted his words, making the rhetorical question more of a demand.

With a groan, Jill and D watched as Leon slowly opened blue eyes.

* * *

_posted 7August2007_


	5. Yeilds 3 dozen

**A/N: **I've been having a shitty week. Nothing has been going right. This is the second time I've attempted to post this. First time computer froze. That's next to me losing half the chapter

* * *

_"Refined sugar is lethal when ingested by humans because it provides only that which nutritionists describe as "empty" or "naked" calories. It lacks the natural minerals which are present in the sugar beet or cane. In addition, sugar is worse than nothing because it drains and leaches the body of precious vitamins and minerals through the demand its digestion, detoxification and elimination make upon one's entire system."_

**Sugar is a Drug**

**Chapter V**

* * *

The first thing that he was aware of was white. His unfocused vision told his mind that the ceiling was white. He tilted his head slightly. The walls were white too. Something was on his face, but he didn't care too much at the moment. He was tired and confused as to why he was conscious. Tilting his head in the opposite direction, Leon saw Jill and froze. Fear gripped him. He knew he was different; could feel it. His ear twitched at the constant, repetitive sounds coming from the machines he was hooked up to. Jill, however, didn't seem to see his changes and ran a hand through his hair, just touching the base of one of his tall, pointed ruddy ears. It flicked at the slight attention. 

"Oh, Leon!" Jill said through a watery smile. "I'm so glad you're all right."

Leon gave her a tired, cocky grin. "Of course I'm all right. Never been better."

Jill laughed, discretely wiping her eyes. "I'm gonna go see how long they plan on having you here." She patted his hand before leaving.

Which then left him alone with the Count. Focusing his blue eyes on D, Leon saw him slightly differently. The colours about him were brighter, more vibrant. His had had never before seemed so gem-like. His cheongsam seemed to flow about him in a way that it had never appeared to before.

"You look different," Leon told him as he took a seat by his bedside.

"Am I the one who looks different, or has someone just opened their eyes to the truth?" D intoned cryptically.

Leon frowned. His mind puzzled over it coming to a conclusion. "You've always been this way, haven't you?" Leon said. "You've always been different like this."

D's smile was all knowing; that winning Mona Lisa smile.

"So, that makes me the one who has 'just opened their eyes to the truth'?" Leon asked.

"You're the one who was hiding, detective," D said. "I'll admit, I have never _not_ found an animal that was hiding in human society. T-chan, or the 'goat thing' as you so fondly call him, was one those who hid among human society. He's a toutetsu. Then there was this one fiasco when I first took over the shop involving this rather irate Zu. Then there was that time with the Questing Beast…" D trailed off as he caught the expression that Leon was giving him. "Yes, detective?" D inquired.

"So, does this mean that I'm some…mythical creature?" Leon sputtered. He was rather lost in this whole situation. He knew he wasn't human anymore, but when he looked down at himself, he appeared human enough. His senses were heightened, sure, but he had always had sharper senses than his coworkers and friends growing up. He had no idea that they stemmed from…whatever this was.

"No," D said, his smooth voice breaking into his thoughts. "If anything, you're like Ten-chan; an animal spirit, though you seem to have started out normal enough. I could probably find out more if you let me taste your blood."

Leon, morbidly curious, held out his wrist to the Count. Using one of his perfectly manicured nails, Count D ran it across Leon's wrist, cutting the skin and drawing blood. Bringing the appendage to his mouth, the Chinese god's tongue licked the wound; eliciting a hiss from its owner. The one lick healed the wound as it took in the creature's blood. D sighed at the phenomenal taste of the blood, suddenly craving more. He needed to eat some sweets when he returned to the petshop. Rubbing the metallic liquid along his palette, D gathered information from the magical properties Leon could wield to his lineage and what he truly was.

"Well, it seems you are no ordinary creature, that's for certain," D began. Leon snorted and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, 'no shit?'. D pouted before continuing. "Your soul was born several thousand years ago, and remembers the end of the last Ice Age. You, Leon, are an Ethiopian wolf god. Your last incarnation was born sixty years ago and would have lived for hundreds of years if it hadn't been killed as a puppy. After its last death, your soul fled somewhere where it felt it could hide and be safe."

"How the hell does Jill not see me the way you seem to be able to?" Leon suddenly blurted. Jill had seemed oblivious to whatever features he had now that the Count could see.

D sighed. "You still seem to be hiding the majority of your abilities and powers. When the rest of the seal you placed on yourself breaks, or when you decide you're not in danger anymore and come out of hiding, others will see you for what you are: a wolf. Many who are devoutly spiritual will probably sense your godliness and powers, and those of your homeland will inherently worship you, even if they don't exactly know why."

"So what the fuck do I do now?" Leon asked. Aren't I just full of questions, Leon snidely thought to himself. The majority of them seemed rhetorical at best, and he was largely surprised that D was humouring him and taking the time to answer him.

"That depends on how long you intend to hide," D pointed out. "If you decide to come out of hiding, you'll have to retire from the LAPD. You'll either have to run wild or come with me to live in my petshop."

"What if I want to keep on the force?" Leon asked; his voice rough and menacing. He enjoyed being a fucking cop!

"That will only last as long as the seal holds," D replied. "You've already cracked it when you were fighting the lions. Slowly, your power will seep through and wash away the human shell you've been hiding in all your life. It's only a matter of time now before you reach your full potential."

"A fucking rock and a hard place, huh?" Leon muttered. "Well shit."

Count D fell silent as he watched Leon think. He could see the thoughts flit across his dark blue eyes that were staring, but not seeing, the sheet that covered his legs. 'The poor thing!' D thought. Leon was so far from his homeland. As his power leaked through the seal, he would get more and more restless. His diet was apt to change too. He had seen Leon eat, and the particular breed of wolf he was wouldn't agree with the diet that its human shell had indulged in. D snickered to himself thinking that the beer Leon so enjoyed drinking was apt to be the first thing to go.

The door opened, grabbing both Leon's and the Count's attention. Jill walked into the room with the nurse that D recognized from before.

"How's everything going?" Jill asked.

"Just fine, thank you," Count D courteously replied.

Leon just made some noncommittal noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. D frowned, worried about the speed at which Leon's power was seeping through the crack in the seal. Meanwhile, the nurse tittered about, taking notes on the clipboard that was stationed at the foot of Leon's bed.

"I want to go home," Leon told the nurse.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Orcot," the nurse said as she finished taking his blood pressure.

"Why not?" Leon stubbornly asked. He felt fine.

"From what's stated in your file, you live alone," the nurse continued. "In the condition you're in now, you'd need to be looked after almost 24 hours a day for you to make a full recovery."

"I feel fine," Leon persisted. D smiled to himself, watching the argument: ever the stubborn detective.

"You may feel fine, but you aren't," the nurse continued, "You'd need to take medication every four hours or so for pain and you wouldn't be able to walk by yourself for fear of ripping your stitches!"

Leon was about to open his mouth to further argue, when Jill spoke up. "What if someone were to live with him and take care of him?"

The nurse sighed, exasperated, "Then he'd probably be able to leave with a note from work stating that he was on medical leave until he had a physical to determine his well being and fitness to return to work."

"So if either Jill or the Count stays with me, then I can go home?" Leon asked, perking up. D had to cover his mouth to hide his smile, though he didn't think he kept it from his eyes. The way Leon was acting reminded him of some of his dogs. _Must be his human aspect still affecting his true nature_, D thought.

The nurse sighed again, sensing her defeat. "No matter the case, you'll have to take it up with your doctor tomorrow; he's left for the day." The nurse, with more force than was necessary, returned the clipboard to its holding space at the foot of Leon's bed. "If you have this much energy, I don't know why they'd want to keep you any longer than necessary!" And in a huff, the portly nurse left.

"Well," D said, after a few moments of silence. "That went well."

"Visiting hours are also over!" the nurse's voice called through the door.

Jill giggled. Count D sighed. Getting up, the two bid Leon good night as they left.

Leon, halfheartedly, bid them goodnight. His conversation with Count D left him much to think about. Was he really going to have to quit the force? Settling down on his bed, Leon thought of it no more as he drifted off into sleep.

* * *

_He was walking down a dark hallway, pictures littering the walls. In the beginning, they were like paintings; landscapes of harsh, snowy landscapes. They were harsh in their temperatures, this he could tell. He could smell the ice and cold on the air in the hallway. As he continued down the hallway, he watched as huge coniferous forests occasionally break up the wide expanse of white with huge, imposing mountains. Creatures that he had never seen, and only half he had heard about, littered the plains of the snowscape. The fantastic creatures were most likely dead, but he would be that probably one or two of them lived on in D's petshop._

_Further down the hallway the scene changed. The solid snowscape became a tundra. Grasses and hardy plants speared through the snow. That barely held his attention. It was the next few frames that caught them. War. Huge cat-like animals and what could only be dire wolves fought bloody battles over food and territory. His dark blue eyes studiously took in the large, gleaming yellow fangs of the cats and the powerful jaws of the wolves. _

_He moved on. The snowscape slowly faded away and torrent filled its place. Where the animals had been used to snowstorms and blizzards of epic proportions, they had never been exposed to rain of this magnitude. He could barely make out the shadowy silhouettes that had to have been the animals from the previous pictures. He watched the shadowy figures take refuge where ever they could, some not making it. Still moving down the hall, it wasn't long before the monsoon like rains passed, as did the age of snow. He watched the lands dry out and become something opposing a tundra; a scrubland or sorts. The land rose and swelled before dipping back down like the waves in the ocean. In the far distance, he could see jagged unforgiving mountains._

_He watched as the wolves steadily lost their thick undercoats; tufts of soft looking fur stuck to the small, shrub like plants. And still there was war. Large cats, the predecessor or lions he assumed, continued to wage battle with the wolves. The next scene depicted the wolves leaving the rolling plains for the mountains. He watched as their dun and cream, black and white gave way to a ruddy red-brown coat, white throat, underbelly, and tail. The tail looked like it was dipped in ink. It was solid black till about halfway up before that tapered into a single stripe that ended where the tail met the animal's haunches. Their lanky frames did well in the heat that soon permeated the land; a far cry from the ice and snow that was a distant memory to them._

_He saw when man came into their territory, initially peaceful. He watched man evolve over the next few scenes, and the wolves being revered. He watched when other men came. Their dogs brought diseases that the wolves couldn't fight off. The men became jealous and angry towards them. He watched, as the scene morphed into men and dogs standing over a pack of these ruddy wolves, all either dead or dying, holding the dead ones by their hind legs or tails. _

_The next scene gave him pause. A familiar pair of blue eyes looked out of a delicate face framed with blonde hair. No. It couldn't be. She was dead. It couldn't be true! His feet came alive again and he started walking, faster, faster, until he was nearly running, looking at the pictures on the walls of a familiar life. A woman taking care of him, school, a boy that looked similar to himself but had an air of…well…tameness for lack of a better word grow up and then being separated. He caught buildings and guns and a pair of mismatched eyes before he stubbed his toe, effectively ceasing his dash down the long hallway._

"_Fuck!" He turned to see that he had stubbed his toe on a door. It looked like doors from castles, or what he supposed they looked like. It was made from thick timbres with a band of iron at the top and bottom keeping it together. Chains ran from the corners and the middle of each side to the middle where a lock was, but instead of a keyhole, there was a piece of paper with strange symbols he supposed were writing on it. Fingering the piece of paper, he nearly cursed again when he cut his finger on it. Watching the blood well up, he noted that when it fell on the paper, it smoked and the edges curled inwards. Thinking, something that his coworkers swore he didn't do often, he ran his bloody finger down the middle of the paper. It smoked and curled up. He grabbed a corner and ripped it off. The chains retracted noisily and the door parted slightly. Curious, he stepped through the door._

_The room was poorly lit, but a dim spotlight lit up the figure in the middle of the room. It was much like those ruddy wolves, Ethiopian wolves he vaguely remembered D saying. When it stood, he gaped. The creature was massive, easily as big as a pony with three of the monotone tails this kind of wolf was known for. Power. He was suddenly hit with it as it rolled off the creature in waves. It was tangible and thick; never had he felt anything like it. Dark blue eyes, practically identical to his own, looked back at him. He recognized the eyes from the mural, from the pictures. _

"_What are you?" he finally managed to get out._

"_I'm your soul," the beast intoned in a voice that was so much like his own yet more regal sounding, "and your true form."_

"_What are you?" he repeated._

"_I'm a wolf god, a demon, animal spirit, what have you," the wolf replied, licking a front paw._

"_So what D said was true," Leon mumbled, more to himself than anybody, but the wolf deigned to answer him._

"_You should listen to him," the wolf said. "He knows more than you think he does."_

"_How much time do I have?" Leon suddenly asked. It escaped Leon's attention that he was being overtly polite; being courteous and not swearing._

"_Considering you just ripped the seal off," the wolf said with a smirk, "a week if you're lucky…and you don't seem the lucky kind."_

"_A week?" Leon echoed. "How the fuck do you get a week?" Until now that is._

_The wolf snarled. "I only had two tails when I sealed myself and I've been sleeping for twenty some odd years. That-"he waved his tails in the air, all three of them "-tends to have some side effects."_

"_What the hell am I supposed to do now?" Leon snarled._

"_Accept your powers and let that nice Chinese god take care of you," the wolf informed him. "He seems to want to quite badly."_

"_Oh, like that's going to go over fucking well!" Leon growled. "What doesn't your mangy hide understand about the words fucking hospital? I'm fucking stitched together!"_

"_If you accepted your powers than you wouldn't need the hospital!" the wolf snarled and spat back. "Haven't you noticed that he's never sick or severely injured? That's because he's a god! Gods have powers that prevent them from getting severely wounded and sick! You could have them too!"_

"_So what am I supposed to do?" Leon snapped back. "How the fuck do I explain a wolf switching places with a human, eh?" _

"_If you accepted _all_ of your powers, you'd be able to easily deceive them!" The wolf growled. "That kitsune spirit that lives with that god would kill to take lessons from you! You have no idea the greatness you would achieve if you just…accepted…your…powers!" _

_Leon sighed and paced back and forth in front of the angry animal. They were both agitated, and Leon had a strange feeling; almost as if he were running out of time. He sighed, but it came out more as a snarl, not that he noticed. _

"_So how the fuck do I accept my frickin powers?" Leon spat at the wolf. The animal lunged._

_In the seconds it took for the animal to leap of the dais it had been on, Leon's life flashed before his eyes in much the same fashion the mural had portrayed the life of his soul. How, again, was he supposed to be doing this? The wolf said to accept his powers. _Accept my powers, huh_, Leon thought_, fine. I'll fucking accept them_. Relaxing and opening his arms as if he were expecting a hug, Leon didn't feel the sharp pain of rendered flesh, but a cool rush throughout his body. And then it hit him: power. It was like he was hit by a wave from an angry ocean. It washed through his body, changing it, adapting it to be able to more easily use and access it. He felt memories that he wasn't aware of having blossom in his mind. He _knew_ now how to use his power, how deceptive and loving it could be all by how he applied it. _

_Leon looked back at what he used to be and shuddered, feeling like life before was dirty and incomplete. There was no way he would be able to return to the life he had led before. He sighed as the power finished its course, the sigh reverberating through the ether like the ripples on a pond. But what surprised Leon were the answering ripples he received…_

Leon was aware that he was no longer in his mind…or wherever the fuck he had been. His senses told him that only one other was present in the room, and that it wasn't a threat. Wrapping himself in deception, Leon opened dark blue eyes that focused on white. He was still in the hospital. Turning, he came face to face with mismatched eyes.

"Count," Leon's gravelly voice greeted. He licked his lips and cleared his throat in an attempt to remedy his rough voice. When a glass of water was proffered by the Count, Leon gratefully took it and drained it.

"It's good to see you finally awake," D commented. "It seems you've accepted your powers."

"So?" Leon said, rather defensively.

D smiled. "Have you decided?"

Leon scowled. Had he decided? What the fuck was he supposed to decide? When he realized that tails, his own to be exact, were bristling in agitation. Oh yeah…tails. How the fuck had he forgotten that? The decision; stay with the force, or retire?

"I'm not sure," Leon muttered. "Do I get to get the fuck out of here?"

D leaned over and pressed the call button next to his bed. A few moments of silence later and the door opened to reveal Leon's doctor, or the man Leon supposed was his doctor. He had been conveniently unconscious for the whole ordeal and was glad of it. He grabbed the clipboard that the foot of his bed, read a few things, before performing an exam.

"So your nurse tells me that you're wanting to go home," the doctor started conversationally.

"I want to fucking go home," Leon cursed.

"You can't stay by yourself," the doctor said. "You can't be upright for more than a few minutes without your stitches pulling. You'd need to be helped everywhere, not to mention the regular painkillers and antibiotics--"

"What if he stays with me, doctor," Count D spoke up, ending the doctor's admonishments.

"If he had a guardian," the doctor said, "I'd be able to release him after I get the prognosis from his examination."

Count D nodded and the doctor continued with his work. He frowned when the stethoscope carried Leon's heartbeat to his ears.

"What?" Leon asked, somewhat exasperated. He just wanted to get out of the hospital; the way it confined him was beginning to grate on his persona.

"Your heart's rhythm is…off," the doctor said. "I'd say a murmur, but the palpitation is slightly different. Brings back my medschool days…have you ever heard a dog's heart beat?"

"Can't say that I have, considering my line of work," Leon sarcastically replied.

"He must have developed it from all the stress his injuries induced," Count D offered.

"He must have," the doctor agreed, never knowing that the Count had influenced his thoughts. "Well, either way, the palpitation isn't the best condition to have in the line of work you're in, detective," the doctor continued. "I'd say to take it easy if you want to continue with it; keep a desk job or quit altogether. We wouldn't want you dieing before your time!"

"Thanks," Leon grumbled. The doctor laughed heartily. He, apparently, was a warm soul that couldn't be kept down for long.

"In any case, I'll let the nurses know that you'll be checking out," the doctor informed them. "Wouldn't want Shirley to jump you and drag you back!" and with a full, amused laugh to a joke only he, and the staff, understood left.

"Clothes?" Leon asked. "I can't exactly go out the fuck out in this shit."

D smiled as he produced a folded cheongsam from a bag.

Leon scowled. "From one fucking dress to another," he muttered blackly. He knew D was taking some kind of sick pleasure in the whole affair as he turned to give him some kind of privacy. As he pulled the garment over his body, Leon began to understand why D loved to wear these. The fabric was smooth, soft, and silky to the touch. It flowed about him almost like water. The pants he wore under it were just as soft, if not more supple, than the fabric of the cheongsam itself. Leon shifted about in it before buttoning the clasps and tying a sash around his waist.

"Decent," Leon said as he leaned back against his bed.

D smiled. The Chinese god didn't have the heart to tell him half the garment was on wrong. "Have a seat and we'll be on our way, detective."

A few heated minutes of intense arguing occurred before D managed to convince Leon to sit in the provided wheel chair.

* * *

Minutes later, Leon was being wheeled out of the hospital to a taxi. The driver bowed to him, then twice as deep to D. Leon wondered how he could have missed the reverence almost everyone in Chinatown seemed to give to D before he was helped into the back. Freedom had never been so sweet...and it smelled like grease, cigarettes and clean city air.

* * *

_posted 30August2007_


	6. best if eaten with milk epilogue

**A/N:** Here's the last chapter of Sugar is a Drug. Thank you all for staying with me on it. I _**might **_write a sequel, there's nothing definite, but enjoy this short epilogue. I'll be posting pictures on homepage for this story. Enjoy!

**p.s.:** All my sugar quotes can be found here: (http :// www.macrobiotics .co.uk/sugar. htm) You'll have to take out the spaces. Dunno why doesn't like links.

* * *

_"...One of the keys to orderly brain function is glutamic acid, and this compound is found in many vegetables. When sugar is consumed, the bacteria in the intestines, which manufacture B vitamin complexes, begin to die-these bacteria normally thrive in a symbiotic relationship with the human body. When the B vitamin complex level declines, the glutamic acid (normally transformed into "go" "no-go" directive neural enzymes by the B vitamins) is not processed and sleepiness occurs, as well as a decreased ability for short-term memory function and numerical calculative abilities. The removal of B vitamins when foods are "processed" makes the situation even more tenuous..."_

**Sugar is a Drug**

**Chapter VI**

* * *

Leon slept. One might say he slept like the dead, but for the slight difference that anyone could see the rising and falling of his chest. His blue eyes were closed, hiding thought and emotion from the world. He slept for days straight, healing his injured body from all its injury. Chris was elated when he found out that his older brother would be staying at the petshop too. Count D, sadly, had to curb the boy's enthusiasm, telling the young boy that his brother was injured and needed sleep. 

Count D visited the room that he assigned to Leon, which the blond had effectively marked as his own, several times a day. He made the ex-cop eat some before making him chase it with a cup of tea. The tea wasn't truly tea as most people know it. It was a blends or herbs and spices to help Leon heal and to dispel any pain he was in. By the end of the week, Leon was lucid and getting restless. Count D didn't know if he would do well to be released into the room he kept the wolves in or if he should just enchant the room Leon was currently in.

D was mulling this over when the bell to his petshop chimed.

"Hello?" A familiar voice called. "Count D?"

"Ah, good afternoon, Miss Jill," Count D said as he glided into the room from tending Leon.

"Hello, Count D," Jill replied. "I was wondering how Leon was doing. When I heard he retired…"

"I know," D replied. "But he thought it was for the best with his heart and everything."

"He is okay, though, right?" Jill prodded. Count D smiled. Jill truly cared for Leon's well being.

"He's doing well, all things considering," D replied. "If you want, I'll show you to his rooms."

Jill smiled as she followed the count to the back of the shop.

* * *

Leon was lounging on a rock in the far back of his enclosure when there was a knocking on the door. He had no idea how the Count did it, made the enclosures the size that they were; he only had a vague idea. When the cloying scent of incense reached his nose, he made his way to the front of his room. What he came upon was the Count, as expected, and, surprisingly, Jill. 

"Jill!" Leon exclaimed as he gave his secretary a hug.

"You're looking good, Leon," Jill exclaimed, "Considering you were mauled last week.

"The Count's been taking care of me," the ex-detective said carefully.

"I'm glad."

They talked for a bit and had tea, but as the hours passed, it was time for Jill to head back to the precinct.

"I have third shift," she said with a cringe. Leon cringed as well and wished her luck.

"Well, that went easier than I expected," Leon said as he stretched.

"The mind will believe what it wants to believe," D explained, "so it's no wonder that she saw you in good health, because she wanted you to be well."

Leon nodded.

_Brother!! _ Came a shout from somewhere in the back room. A blond haired boy came rushing out of the back and latched on to his leg. _Brother! I heard from Het-chan that you were here to stay! Is it true?_

Leon looked at D. "Who's Het-chan?"

"Het-chan would be a hierocosphinx from Egypt I recently obtained," D explained. "She's rather bad tempered, but seems to like Chris' company."

"Egypt?" Leon asked. D smiled. Leon frowned before sighing. "I'm not even going to ask."

_Is it true? Is what Het-chan said true?_ Chris continued.

"Yes, Chris," Leon gave in, "I'm here for good."

_YES!!!_ Chris exclaimed in triumph, giving Leon a hug before running off into the kitchen. _What's for dinner?_

"Life's going to be interesting, detective," D said as he followed after Chris. Leon only watched. "You better not be touching the stove, young Chris!"

Leon chuckled to himself. Life seemed to be going pretty good. It could only get better. Leon followed D and his brother into the kitchen after a bit of delay and saw Pon-chan scolding Chris as D put out a fire on the stove. Leon smiled.

::end::

* * *

_posted 17September2007_


End file.
